The nature of scandal
by Aletta-Feather
Summary: What constitutes a scandal may change over time, as Abbie and Ichabod learn only too well. Both remember past events in their lives that have the potential to drive them apart… or not?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Rated T for mention of abortion and rape. Also features some homophobia/sexism. Just a heads up. However, it doesn't mean that there isn't any humor to be found in the story… besides all the angst and arguing.

* * *

**The nature of scandal**

"I simply cannot believe it…. The shame…" Ichabod was baffled.

Abbie, for once, agreed. They had just spoken to a minister who had embezzled money from his congregation and to the journalist who had discovered it. Spoken to wasn't the right word though, they had in fact torn the two apart as they were literally trying to scratch each other's eyes out.

"To abuse their trust like that…" she replied. "And to think that the parishioners do not want to press charges, still keeping him on a pedestal…" She couldn't wrap her head around that one.

"I meant the journalist," he said. Abbie looked at him with the question written on her face.

"Her? What has she done?"

Ichabod snorted. "You have to inquire? Surely…. An unwed woman, pregnant no less, wearing her shame like… like a trophy.." He could hardly say the words. "For someone like that to attack a servant of God…." He could not understand it. The woman had worn tight clothing which had only drawn further attention to her body and the state it was in. No shame at all!

Abbie swallowed hard. This was one of those moments… She was in half a mind to strike back, asking if getting rid of the 'shame' was a better course of action, but decided against it. The ensuing discussion could make her too emotional. Many years ago, still in high school, she had accompanied one of her friends, Carol, who was in a difficult situation. Surely he would not be able to understand that either… How women could be trapped between a rock and a hard place.

She opted not to respond at all. The case was closed anyway. The journalist would stop hassling him, lest she wanted a restraining order and the reverend would walk away scot free. Justice indeed!

Ichabod eyed her. She did not seem pleased. Did she really agree with this? Women raising children without fathers, even choosing to? Fallen women without any deference to those who brought God's word, however flawed His servants might be?

Abbie decided to ask him a question in return. "So you think his parishioners are doing the right thing? Letting him off the hook just like that?" She snapped her fingers.

"Perhaps they are practicing the art of forgiveness."

It was Abbie's time to snort. "That's easy for him. Forgive and forget; let's pretend nothing happened!"

"It's a very Christian thing to do. In fact, perhaps the very highest…" he continued, unsure why she would be so cynical.

"The way I see it, is that he has wrapped them all around his little finger. They do not even question him, just because of his position. You'd think that would be more fit, no 'fence, for your time…"

"None taken… Am I to understand that you do not believe in exemptions based on high positions?"

"No," she said, almost angrily. "The other way around, I would say. Abuse of one's power, of the trust people placed in him. If it were up to me… he would be punished more severely, not less."

"And she should not be punished at all…" he inferred, thinking it over. "Not even threatened with this order of restraint... Although her virtue is shattered, her reputation will remain entirely unscathed."

"Somewhere else she could have won a journalistic award… for uncovering such a scandal." Abbie pushed the argument even further.

Ichabod remained silent. The nature of scandal had definitely changed over time, that much was certain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Different rules of engagement**

In his teenage years…

Not that teenage years existed in his time. One was either a child, or an adult, nothing much in between. He had learnt the word here, in this place where everything was different.

Teens were not allowed to smoke or drink here, not until they were quite old indeed! However, their rules of engaging the other sex—or even the same apparently—were entirely different. They even received education on the subject! Not everywhere though, some schools did not provide that option. A very good thing, Ichabod would have thought. Imagine the poor teachers having to explain… in a classroom with both sexes present! Abbie disagreed on that matter too…

When he was fifteen, his slightly older neighbor, Marion, was with child. She was due to marry, but was not married yet. Her fiancée did not want to take responsibility, in fact, even claimed the child wasn't his! Her parents had thrown her out, some of the boys had kicked her, the older women had sneered and the younger ones avoided her like the plague, lest they would be associated with her.

She had run away into the forest and was never found again. Later he had heard rumors. She had visited a woman known for certain knowledge. It wasn't until he was much older that he realized what was meant by that. People whispered she had bled to her death and had been buried by creatures of the night. That such a woman was not supposed to live, nor her child. It had seemed harsh—he had known her all his life—but it had been the way things were. The ways no-one questioned. The solution she had sought was deemed wicked beyond wicked and her death no more than a logical, and most thought entirely deserved, result.

Not here, not in this day and age. Her behavior would not have been encouraged here, but certainly not discouraged either. In his time, that was not so. After it had happened, he and his father, their mother too, had ensured his younger sisters and nieces knew the rules of virtue by heart. They need not befall such a fate if they kept in line.

Little did he know, little did anyone know, as she had been taught the same rules, that she had not broken them willingly. A wounded soldier, a friend of her older brother, had lured her with news about him. She had met him, expecting a letter, but receiving an assault instead. How she had prayed her belly would not grow. How she had prayed her knees raw, but it had happened anyway…

As for engaging the same sex, well, that demanded a death penalty for sure… That rule was no longer in place either. Ichabod would never admit it but he was rather pleased with that alteration of the law. He had once helped a man escape such a fate… It was one of his greatest secrets.

Both young soldiers of the King, stationed in the colonies, the man had confided in him. Simon was very drunk, both with victory and liquor and his secret had slipped off his lips. Ichabod had been appalled at his confession. He had heard such evil things existed… yet this man… was just a man. A friend even. A young soldier, like himself. How could he be prone to such things? Simon had sworn him to secrecy the following day, and even had told Ichabod that he had contemplated desertion lest he betrayed him. He had already left England out of fear for the exposure of his secret…

He had promised to keep his secret. And he had. Yet a few months later, the young soldier had been caught in the act. His local friend was shot at once, as he wasn't a soldier, but Simon would face charges. It was only a delay of execution…

He was heavily guarded, except for the evenings, when everyone was drinking and off guard. The wine and beer kept the cold away, the gnawing cold… Ichabod had been praying, wrestling with his conscience...

At first, all those months ago, he had been angry at the man. Suddenly he had been burdened with a secret too great to bear. If his name was ever mentioned…. He could be seen as an accomplice, as one himself, even! He hated him for that and made sure he avoided him as much as he could. He chose not to see Simon's sad eyes or downtrodden stance. The stoop in his shoulders growing each day. Ichabod made sure he was never alone with him again.

But at the moment… He should be relieved. The secret would die with the man himself. Ichabod's involvement in the secret would too! Yet he could not rejoice over the matter. It reminded him too much of the death of his young neighbor. Such a lovely girl, taken away from life so soon…

He had seen more of the world now. Not that much, but definitely more. He had noticed certain things. Some rules did not apply to everyone… Those in high offices and positions could do as they pleased, always and everywhere… Yet young men and women would die over all manner of offences. Some great, some small.

He had his belly full of it. He more than had his fill of it. Only the other day, he had seen an officer of the Crown grabbing one of the local village girls and taking her to his quarters. She had no father or brother to protect her, and others were too frightened as well, and so the officer had not been stopped. No-one had stopped him, no-one had stepped in. Different rules for him. It was the way the world operated. The ways no-one questioned.

Ichabod bribed the two guards with the finest wine and some of his ration. He told them he would take care of the prisoner himself. That he had a dispute with the man and planned to skin him, or perhaps tar and feather him… The guards laughed: they privately agreed. Hanging was too good for him! Ichabod dragged him out of his cell, bound and gagged him, and quickly disappeared in the dark.

In the forest, he released his bonds as he took the burden of his horse. It was the first time he spoke to Simon again. "Give me a hand, will you… We need to fill your grave…" A grave was already there, open before them. He had dug it earlier that night.

The man trembled at the words, but Ichabod pointed to a second shovel. "We have to make haste."

He began to close the grave with earth, and earth alone. Simon was puzzled, but he joined in, still unsure of his fate. The grave soon looked like it should. Ichabod took both shovels, and climbed on his horse. He nodded to Simon. "I'll take my leave. I suggest you do the same."

Simon mumbled words of thanks, still in complete shock at what had occurred, but Ichabod was already galloping away.

He had not been punished for his action. The guards had talked and Ichabod had received a scolding, an earful. Not a harsh one though. At the sight of his grave, everyone was pleased. Simon got what he deserved.

Ichabod was still unsure if he had done the right thing, the honorable one. Would God be angry with him? He had never divulged his secret to another soul, not even Katrina. He didn't know, not for certain, if he had been wrong in releasing Simon or in shunning him. Human in his avoidance of the young soldier or in his guilt-enticed rescue mission. He simply didn't know…


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't ask, don't tell**

"How do you perceive same-sex marriage?" Ichabod inquired. Abbie almost chocked on her steak. Not again! They were in the diner, after a long day of chasing a band of very young robbers.

"Ichabod, I beg you, please.." she pleaded. "Let's just agree to disagree on matters such as these… It would be far better for our blood pressure, our general health, our friendship…" She sighed. "I do understand you're from a different time and such… but really, these discussions… They are, quite frankly, draining…" And off-putting too, she thought.

"Very well. You are right." Marriage, he thought to himself. Marriage—whatever has happened to the world… Everything had changed. From death penalty to marriage… It was a miracle. Had the young soldier lived today—as he did himself—perhaps he would have gotten married… Would his fellow soldiers have been present or would they have shunned him still? Apparently a military code called Don't Ask, Don't Tell had been repealed.

He decided to make a quip. "Don't ask, don't tell," he said.

"I'm sorry?" Abbie replied.

"I don't ask your views and you don't tell me yours," he explained. "Or the other way around, for that matter."

"You do know that.." she began.

"Yes, like the military code… The repealed one. It might work splendid for us, though. Don't you agree?"

"I do actually." She smiled. It could work. It would be far better than arguing over issues that had changed so severely over time. She liked and respected him, as she knew he did her. But some things were better left unsaid….

As they drove to the cabin, each lost in their own thoughts, they saw a car, parked in the middle of nowhere. "Let's have a look," Abbie said as she parked her car nearby.

It was the journalist, Janet. Her water had broken, just as she was about to drive back home. The battery on her phone had died so she couldn't get any assistance. Abbie called for an ambulance as Ichabod paced around the car. He couldn't possibly be of help in such feminine matters…

Fortunately, Abbie knew what to do. She demanded his help, and so he witnessed a woman in the final stages of childbirth for the first time in his life. A half-naked woman, who was not related to him in any manner whatsoever. He tried to avoid looking at her body, respectfully keeping his gaze downwards, but that didn't work. Abbie told him to get over himself, whatever that meant.

In the end, it all worked out. He held the baby as Abbie cut the umbilical cord. It was a little baby boy, breathing and screaming loudly.

"Thank you both so much," Janet said. "You're heaven-sent."

They both smiled, weary but most content. In the distance, they saw the ambulance coming.

"What was your name again?" she asked Ichabod. "That's a lovely name… " she replied at his answer. "I wonder if… Would you mind if I called him that too?"

Ichabod was embarrassed. "Surely you will name the baby after his fa…" Abbie punched him. "grandfather," he adjusted.

"I will, actually," she said. "My father's name is Isaac, so that will be his first name, but for a second name…"

"He would be honored." Abbie responded. "It is a great honor," she said to him, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes, it is, but to name one's child after a mere stranger… I'm not sure if that would be appropriate…" he protested, which led to yet another punch in his gut.

"But you are no longer a mere stranger. You are one of the first to have held my baby; surely that is grounds enough." Janet smiled at this rather odd, though friendly man. "It will be a reminder of his memorable birth." Behind his back, the ambulance had come to a halt.

"Perhaps.." he said, at unease with the entire situation. If she knew how he had characterized her, surely she would not be naming her baby after him…

"I'll take that as a yes then, shall I?" Janet asked, as the ambulance personnel was helping her into the ambulance.

"If you insist." Ichabod finally gave in. It was nice to know that his name would live on. As long as no-one assumed he was the father. He fervently hoped that would not be the case!

"Thank you. Thank you both!" The doors closed and the ambulance drove away.

Abbie and Ichabod were on their own once more.

"Do you really need to physically harm me every time I utter something disagreeable to you?" he asked, after a moment of silence.

Abbie laughed. Long and hard. "Yes, I do. However will you learn otherwise?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Drifting apart**

Just as Abbie had finished herself up after their adventure and was about to leave the cabin, Ichabod called her back. "Miss Mills, I am a little distraught as to…"

"What is it, Crane?" It sounded a little harsher than she meant. She was completely knackered and wanted to sleep more than anything.

"The child, carrying my name…. I'm distraught as to what people…. They might assume that I…"

"You what?"

"Well, perhaps that I fat…" he hesitated, "fathered.. I do not want them to.."

She laughed. The worries he had where so out of place sometimes..

"They won't, I promise. Don't be concerned. Most people already know who the father of that child is, and besides, you were not present at its, hmm, conception roughly nine months ago, now where you?"

"I have only been here for…"

"Seven, maybe? Definitely not more.. so there you go. Also the boy's name is Isaac. As a second name Ichabod will hardly be used."

He sighed. "That's a relief… I didn't want to be impolite as she insisted, but…"

"Your virtue is safe. Don't worry." Abbie got a little tired of it all occasionally: the constant reminder of norms of another era.

So did Ichabod. Her patronizing tone and mocking laughs were unbearable at times. It wasn't his fault he was placed into this new world.

"Goodnight then," he said. He'd offer the couch but a little distance between them might clear the air better.

"Sleep tight," she replied, and happily closed the door behind her. A few hours of solitude would do her just fine.

* * *

A few days later, they visited little baby Isaac Ichabod in the hospital. Him and his mother. Ichabod had made him a toy out of wood and Abbie had bought a nice set of baby clothes. Mother and child were doing well, despite their nightly adventure.

They hadn't been able to help themselves—fortunately not in the hospital though— and had continued arguing over shame, scandal, and virtue. Ichabod had a lot to say on the subject, from women's clothing to their behavior. Everything appeared to be shameful. Abbie's patience was wearing thin. She had found herself thinking about Carol, how her older boyfriend had nudged her first and abandoned her later. How her family would not support her, and how both decisions—either keeping the child or not—would hurt her life. How lonely she had felt, despite Abbie's presence. A few years later, in a stable relationship, she had become pregnant again and had keenly felt the sting of loss. All because of these ideas and rules… Rules that were still present in today's society, though not as much as in Ichabod's time.

It was as if he had kept his silence for too long. Held his tongue for all these long months, for her sake, for everyone's sake. He stood out too much as it was, without drawing even further attention to himself. But he simply couldn't any more. Every time he opened his mouth a litany of this society's flaws blurted out of him.

"We're not really good in keeping our promise, are we?" she mentioned as she let him out of the car. The end of another long and fateful day. They had been silent during the drive to his cabin, both tired and angry of the unresolved tensions.

"Won't you come in?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Not today, thanks." She smiled sadly. The continued arguing was taking its toll on their friendship as she had feared.

"What promise?" he asked, stooping down to the open car window.

"Don't ask, don't tell. We haven't really kept that, have we… " Abbie sighed deeply. "Perhaps we should have." Her voice had an edge of bitterness as she pushed the button to close the window.

He watched her leave, the taillights growing dimmer with each yard. Ichabod wondered if they symbolized the growing distance between them. Two (and a half) centuries proved difficult to bridge…


	5. Chapter 5

**Please, do tell**

Abbie was thinking of a way to close the gap between them. Perhaps Ichabod needed a crash course in feminism. How patriarchy influenced relationships and society at large… Really, he needed to learn two centuries worth of historical changes, in manners, in foreign policy, in culture…

What was she thinking… Who was she kidding? It was an impossible task. She knew plenty of men—and women—with somewhat similar notions to him and they did not have the excuse of centuries to hide behind. DADT (Don't Ask, Don't Tell) was the best they could have done, and they had both failed miserably at that…

Ichabod was stuck in a similar dilemma. He missed his old life and everything about it. The speed, or lack thereof, the security of his place in it… He didn't know where he belonged here, and he was rapidly losing the one person he belonged with. He had sensed her pulling away, especially yesterday.

Other than Miss Mills and Miss Jenny, he hardly knew anyone here, never mind anyone to call a friend… They should have taken their own advice. Why ever hadn't they?

He knew perfectly well why. He wanted her to understand. Didn't understanding create a bond between people? Wasn't communication preferable to silence? Most of the time, at least?

She was offended at every other sentence… Well, maybe not that often. He corrected himself. Indeed, this line of thinking was not very helpful! Perhaps he should remain silent once more. That might be an answer to the problem…

"Giving me the silent treatment?" Abbie said angrily. He'd hardly spoken a word all day, even now, during lunch.. They had almost finished their sandwiches and Abbie's mood had dropped considerably.

"Whatever do you mean?" he responded.

"It's a passive-aggressive way of showing you are angry or upset with someone," she explained.

"Passive…what? I merely thought that as we seem to have so many differences lately and are quite unable to overcome them, perhaps silence would be more peaceful for the both of us…"

"So I should take your silence, how exactly?" She should have known it was yet another form of miscommunication…

He pondered the question over, before he quietly spoke: "As a sign of cease fire, maybe? It would be disheartening to lose your acquaintance…" He didn't meet her eyes as he uttered the last few words.

So he had felt it too! The way their friendship was going downhill. Something had to happen, sooner rather than later… She smiled grimly; it was almost if they needed therapy…

"You won't," she replied sternly. "Don't be morbid." Maybe they needed another adversary to bring them closer again. However, she for one, had her fill of demons and other creatures… Surely there must be another way?

"I'm determined to hold my peace again," he continued, swallowing hard. "Since my honesty does not provide the intended outcome."

As always, he was talking in riddles. What outcome? What was he talking about?

"Did you have a special plan with dissing everything about people and society today? Women, school subjects, the way the newspaper reports? Female journalists? Pregnant ones at that?"

He shot her an accusatory glance. Obviously they still had unresolved issues.

"I don't know the meaning of _diss_," he said primly, "although one may presume. I merely attempted to relate more of myself, of my personal views. Clearly that was a mistake on my part." In his haste to leave the table, he accidently dropped the chair to the ground. She could under no circumstance notice the tears developing in his eyes.

Abbie was lost. She didn't know how to respond to this. He had seemed quite upset. Should she follow him? Or leave him be for a moment?

Ichabod wished he could run away. To the ends of the earth or beyond. The building frustration of the last few months… Unable to reach his wife, unable to fit into this world. The police officers still mocked him. In his day, he would have fought a duel with each and every one of them. And he would have won! Silenced them forever… But no, he was not allowed such measures. He simply had to take it… All of it!

He found himself at Katrina's grave once more. It was one of the places that provided some solace, some comfort, though barely enough. He didn't know for how long he sat there, kneeled in front of the tombstone. Staring into the distance or bowing his head in pain. Stroking the stone as if she were present herself.

A small hand touched his shoulder. "Ichabod… It is nearly nightfall. Let me take you home." Abigail had come for him, even after his outburst. He slowly got up, all his limbs stiffened by the cold soil.

They drove in silence. It was more peaceful than before. Or was that wishful thinking on her part? She still didn't know how to solve their disagreement. How to proceed next. She had never seen him like this, so down and depressed. So utterly lost in despair. Fighting monsters or even death itself seemed easy compared to this…

"Do you want me to stay?" she offered at their arrival. His reply took ages.

"If you wish." If you wish… was that a yes or no? It hadn't sounded hostile, but it was hardly inviting either. She wanted to opt against it, but chose to stay anyway.

Inside the cabin, the silence grew and she felt herself aching for the safety of her car. Her home. He was pacing around like a caged animal and didn't appear to notice her presence at all. It made her afraid. Very afraid. She had already lost her mother to insanity and despair, had nearly lost her sister too….

"Ichabod, perhaps you should take some rest?" she nudged him. He stared back at her with hollow eyes.

"Yes, yes, of course," he mumbled. "Do you require anything? There are blankets in the…"

"I'll be fine. Go on, you seem.. utterly spent."

He nodded. He was. Ichabod stumbled into his bedroom onto his bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Abbie spent a good part of the night seated in a rocking chair across the room. His sleep was restless and he mumbled throughout his dreams. She heard her own name quite often.

How had this happened? How had they drifted apart so quickly? They obviously both liked each other, yet their easy banter had turned into a complete mess. They no longer gave each other the benefit of the doubt… they seemed to suddenly distrust each other.. Their mutual care had turned into irritation and nasty tempers…

Abbie began to wonder. Tearing the witnesses apart might just be the intended goal. Having them fight each other instead of the evil that was lurking out there. Neither of them could let that happen, could they?

The following morning she called in a sick day and let him sleep. At least that was soothing, or so she hoped. He'd had cabinets filled with food so making a nice brunch wasn't hard at all.

Sleepily he entered the room around the clock of eleven. "You're still here?" he yawned.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," she explained. "You seemed a bit ill yesterday…"

"Ill-mannered maybe," he replied darkly. "I ought to apologize."

"There's no need," she responded quickly. "We've both not been ourselves, I suppose."

His face fell. He had been himself: that was precisely the problem. He couldn't be himself without alienating her. But if he wasn't himself than what was the value of their friendship at any rate?

Ichabod coughed. "Thank you for staying over, and for this…" he gestured at the table. Abbie grinned. At least they could enjoy a hearty meal together…

After they'd both eaten their fill, and had even had a few laughs, all good signs, the silence descended upon them again. They still hadn't faced the problem itself. Ichabod wondered if the ball could be in his court, as he had often heard her say.

"I'm sorry that my opinions offend you," he began. "It is hard to adjust one's views so abruptly. To be forced into an alien world with so many new customs and ideas."

She nodded sympathetically. Abbie couldn't imagine how hard it must have been, and perhaps still was. Maybe she had taken him for granted, figured that he had adjusted more than he actually had.

"It is like I am trapped in the maze of Minos without Ariadne to guide me…"

"Maze… You mean like in Harry Potter," she interrupted. "The tri-wizard championship?"

He stared at her dumbfounded. "Tri-wizard…?"

"Sorry, sorry, please continue…"

"I feel like I am walking unguided through… a minefield. A minefield of possibilities and obstacles, but the obstacles are increasing whereas…" He took a moment.

"Everything is different and it's frightening. Far more frightening than even the demons themselves. Like I am lost in a world I no longer recognize. The sheer number of divorces, the rate of assaults. The changes in weaponry and the vehicles. The vastness of houses—he'd had seen his first skyscrapers only a few weeks beforehand as they did not exist in Sleepy Hollow—the rudeness of strangers too…"

"And the women?" she whispered. He must feel like a person with amnesia, she thought, recognizing some things but not most. It must be a very disturbing experience. She felt that she had somehow forgotten about this, as their friendship had been so easy-going lately, at least before all this…

He sighed. "The role of women, their capabilities… It's downright… It's wonderful and frightening at the same time… They seem to have no… shame. Are allowed such liberties, take such liberties too, and no-one even blinks an eye. They say.. there might even be a female leader of the country elected soon and… of the army too?"

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe…"

"A woman leading an army…"

Abbie struggled for words. "Like the Amazons, or what's her name… Boadicea, or even Queen Elizabeth the first…"

"There is a second?"

She laughed. "Yes, as we speak…"

"I suppose you're right, yet… Queens have always been an exception to the rule. Anointed by God to lead; they did not place themselves in that position…"

Abbie sighed. This could be a long day…

"The war was fought against a King anointed by God though…" she offered. "Yet you did not disagree with that… after a while.."

"Are you suggesting that I may need some time to come around?"

"Yes," she replied firmly. "Time to figure out the maze, and perhaps you could cast me as Ariadne?"

"You have fulfilled that role so far," he grinned. Then added on a more serious note: "I was rather afraid you'd stopped being her?"

"Perhaps…" she said, weighing her words carefully, "I needed some time to realize that you may need more time to adjust to everything…"

"To pregnant journalists…"

"And single moms…"

"And..." he blushed slightly, "tight clothing…"

"Or embezzling priests…"

"They were quite common in my day," he said with a smile.

"So that's why it didn't shock you?"

"Not particularly no. It comes with the territory…"

"Well, it shouldn't!" Abbie stated vehemently. "He receives a well-enough paycheck as it is."

They enjoyed the rest of their unexpected day off.

After the encouragement of some liquor, he had shared the story of Marion with her, providing some insight into the lives of women in his day. Abbie had talked about Carol, how her family and boyfriend were unsupportive all the same, despite the changes in the world. It seemed that the troubles of women did not alter all that much over time. Nor the abuse of trust of people in trust-worthy positions.

As strange as it may sound, they found some solace in that. A way for the both of them to connect again, despite their numerous differences. The world changed, yes, yet its joys and troubles remained the same. The joy of babies, the pain of loss and alienation. Scandal and shame, but also friendship and redemption.

Ichabod wasn't sure yet, but perhaps he would tell her someday. Maybe Abbigail would know how he should judge his greatest secret. And even if she didn't, he hoped she would at least understand.


End file.
